Liaison
by Side Quest Publications
Summary: The Constable faces temptation when he delivers another message to Jani-Ca, Spectre's wife. Can he resist that temptation? What will come of it? And how will the Guardian react? A rewrite of a scene in Chapter 10 of Spectres of the Past.


**I own Jani-Ca and the Constable.**

**This chapter is a rewrite of the later section in Chapter 10 of Spectres of the Past. If you haven't read that story, this takes place when Spectre is in his mid-to-late 20's, **_**maybe**_** early-to-mid 30's. (Depends on how much time passed since Spectre first joined Jani-Ca's crew.) Sojourner is probably about 2, if that helps.  
It is rewritten here, as a separate document, for two crucial reasons. One is that it includes scenes that have been playing in my head since Chapter 9, and refused to let me go. Even though they fit within the Spectre storyline, those scenes are not part of that "canon," so to speak.  
Namely because in my "canon," the Constable is personally keeping very little contact with Jani-Ca for security reasons, and is, instead, delivering his messages to her via the Fire Ant Council or the Shinobi.**

**The other, more important reason is that I'm **_**not**_** sure if the scenes in this one are vague enough to rate T with the rest of the story.  
So, Rated M. Even though it isn't anywhere **_**near**_** as explicit as some of the M stories I've seen on here.**

* * *

The Constable sent his deputies off to learn what they could of Joshua and his dealings. Meanwhile, he investigated the activities of those very deputies.

There was still the possibility that the chameleon was lying, or was simply mistaken. But he couldn't take that chance. _Something_ was going on, and he had to know if his own people really were involved.

The reports he sent to Jani-Ca were sporadic. Sometimes she'd hear back every day, sometimes it was a week later.

The reports gave her what the Constable had managed to dig up, which was never much; even if he wasn't concerned about being overheard, there was simply very little to report. He didn't dare let on to his deputies that he even _was_ investigating them, nor let that investigation take priority over his normal work.

—

He noted once that Spectre was always absent when he came.

"He's hardly ever around, anyway," she replied. "He's hardly even in the _city_ anymore. He's usually off on the Floating Island by himself."

"Well, he does need to go to Haven for treatment," he said, though he wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure.

She shook her head. "Not Haven. Deo said he's been watching the Master Emerald lately."

"The—" The Constable sat up straighter. After what happened the _first_ time he'd been to the chamber? And with that poison affecting his power? "Is that even wise?"

She smiled sadly. "Deo said he keeps his distance. I...I think he's trying to understand the power, figure out why it still hurts him. Why he—"

She closed her eyes, forcing back the tears.

The Constable rose to his feet and pulled her into an embrace, holding her until her trembling stopped.

"I just want my husband back," she whispered.

He sat her back down on the couch, and held her close for several more minutes.

It took that long for his brain to register just how dangerously close she was. By then, his body had become well aware of her proximity, and was becoming very insistent about what _it_ wanted to do about it.

He didn't dare let her go, not while she was still upset, but... _Damn it, she's_ vulnerable_! Even if she wasn't married, I do_ not _take advantage of people._

But she didn't seem like she'd let go of him any time soon, and the demands of his body grew stronger; he'd have to stop at a pleasure house at this rate.

He knew she'd chew him out again if he did. She didn't have anything against the profession, so long as things stayed clean; she just felt that if he could afford to spend money on such a fleeting pleasure, then he could afford to give that money to a homeless shelter or a food pantry.

He'd asked her once about that, the last time he'd been to such a place; after all, she hadn't objected to the various luxuries that the Council had provided, like some of the furniture or the television.

She had insisted that those luxuries lasted a lot longer, and cost far less than a decent paid flower. And he certainly wasn't about to risk his health on a _cheap_ partner.

But his body was not content with a promise of _later_, not this time, not with her so near.

And the demands were actually starting to hurt. He had just about decided to lock himself in her bathroom and take care of the problem himself.

His brain gave his mouth the order to excuse himself, but the message must have become muddled on the way down.

Because he was _kissing_ her.

He didn't know which of them had moved first; he didn't even remember either of them moving at all.

One second, her head was against his chest, tucked under his chin.

The next, his mouth had closed over hers, both of them kissing deeply, desperately, hungering for each other like a starving wolf after a deer.

_What the hell am I_ doing_? I'm only here on business! She's a married woman! She's off limits!_ Stop _it!_

He buried one hand in her hair—

_She's a married woman—_

The other hand pushed away her robe—

_I'm here on business—_

She started to pull off his shirt—

_She's a married woman—_

He broke off the kiss, gasped for air, kissed her again—

_I'm here on business—_

His hands trailed down to her waist—

_She's a married woman—_

He pulled her closer—

_I'm here on business—_

She stretched against his body, eliciting a moan from him, both of pleasure at the touch, and the sheer _torture_ that it only increased his need, his _hunger_ for her—

The argument continued to circle in his mind, even as he allowed her to pull him into the bedroom.

_she's a married woman i'm here on business she's a married woman i'm here on business she's a married woman i'm here on business—_

The words tumbled around in his head, crashing into incoherence as he struggled with his pants.

_she's a married woman i'm here on business she's a mar...i'm here on...she's a...i'm here..._

_she's...i'm...she's...i'm...she's...i'm..._

_I'm..._

_I'm..._

_I'm..._

_I'm going to hell for this,_ was his last coherent thought, before he pulled her onto the bed and gave himself entirely to the pleasure.

—

The Constable cracked one eye open to find Jani-Ca breathing deeply into his chest.

_If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up._

The Constable smiled and curled himself a little closer around her body.

And heard her chuckling.

"Took you long enough," she said, peering up at him. "I had a crush on you _long_ before Spectre and I soultouched. But _you'd_ been so oblivious, the crew was starting to wonder if you could even do it." He lifted one eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes. "Like it's impossible for any _man_ to not want me, or something. I _tried_ to tell them your voice was too deep for a castrato, but they didn't believe me."

He wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed by that remark, indignant, or amused. One of his eyes started to twitch as he tried to process what she'd just said.

"Problem?" she asked, trying to restrain her laughter.

He buried his face in a pillow. "You have a _gift_ for turning the world upside down," was the muffled reply.

Jani-Ca leaned back to look at him; the Constable snickered as the motion allowed him to run his eyes down most of her length. Which, he imagined, was probably the intended effect.

"Now, _that_ is an interesting remark," she said. "I'm not sure if I should feel insulted or flattered."

"I mean, you _normally_ see the _guys_ betting and bragging about bedding some _girl_."

"Nonsense," she said, pulling close for another long kiss.

He moaned, and wrapped his arms tighter around her. Some part of his brain that was still able to function debated calling in sick to work.

"Just because us girls have the sense to keep quiet," she continued between kisses, "doesn't mean we don't keep score just the same. You just haven't been with the crew long enough."

"Obviously," he whispered, running his hands along her body. She gasped as he found a sensitive spot, and a moan escaped her lips. "I'm still _sane_, aren't I?"

He had meant the words in teasing, but he regretted them the instant they left his mouth. _Way to kill the mood,_ he scolded himself.

She pulled away, a hurt expression on her face. The same expression she'd worn yesterday, and nearly every day since they'd learned the truth about Spectre's condition.

It was not yet obvious to the city—they only knew that Spectre was vicious with his enemies—but the Brotherhood finally had to agree that the young Guardian was, indeed, slowly going mad.

"Note to self," he muttered, "no more 'crazy' jokes until _after_ someone's figured out a cure."

She nodded.

He sighed. "I guess I'd better get ready for work." He gathered up his clothing, took a quick shower, and dressed, finally giving up on smoothing out his uniform after trying for five minutes.

When he finished, he was surprised to see her, still sitting on the bed, staring at the floor like he'd left her. "Jani-Ca? Are you...are you going to be all right?" He crouched on the floor in front of her.

"I don't know," she replied. Her voice held a hint of the tears she still refused to shed.

"I can still call in—if you need someone to stay with you—" It didn't need to be like last night; there was no reason he couldn't stay with her as a friend.

She shook her head. "No. There have been too many rumors already; you don't want to give them anything else to talk about."

"All right," he whispered. He gave her one last kiss before walking to the door.

"Constable?"

Her voice was hard, and it made him hesitate before turning around.

"Next time...next time, could you do me a favor? Don't insult me, by making a big deal about how I'm so _vulnerable_ that you could take advantage of me."

He flinched at the remark; he'd said no such thing yesterday, and he was quite certain he hadn't let it slip last night.

But he had been _thinking_ it, and she might have sensed that, so he chose to keep his mouth shut.

She stared hard at him. "_Physically_, maybe, if you were that type. But emotionally? Do you honestly think I have so little control over my own desires?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "I—I should've known better. I should've remembered you're too _stubborn_ to be manipulated like that."

He smiled, inviting her to share the joke, and waited...

And waited, fearing that he might have already spoiled the day for her.

And she finally smiled back.

"Don't forget," she said.

"I won't, my Lady."

Just outside the door, he paused, thinking over their shared misery yesterday, any hint that led to the night, and what she'd said this morning.

Exactly _who_ had been taking advantage of _whom_?

—

It was not unexpected that the Guardians' official liaison should visit the Guardian's wife, particularly given the condition of _this_ Guardian, but there was still a risk of discovery—of _any_ of their secrets—if he came by too frequently.

But in spite of his better judgment, he found himself making more excuses to see her. He tried to avoid a routine, for security reasons, but even when he had nothing to report, he usually saw her at least once a week.

This continued for nearly three months before one incident that felt like it stopped his heart.

He had just joined her in a bath, and was presently taking an absolutely unholy glee in finding out _exactly_ where she was ticklish.

The sport had gone on for at least half an hour, when she pulled away from him.

"Hold that thought," she said.

"Easier said than done," he muttered. His chuckle turned into a cry of dismay when she stepped out of the tub. "Ah! You're _cruel_ to me!" Was this her revenge for the tickling?

But no, her face was completely serious. She was...listening to something.

He cocked his head, and then he heard it, too. Sojourner was crying.

The Constable grumbled; he knew very well why lions killed the young when they took over a pride. The crew had taken turns watching Sojourner when the Constable was over precisely to _prevent_ these interruptions.

He blinked, then frowned. "Wasn't one of your dingoes watching him today?"

"Yeah, he was," she replied, throwing on a robe and heading off towards the sound.

The Constable sighed. He climbed out and started rummaging around for another towel when she cried out.

"Spectre!"

The Constable jumped, banging his head against the cupboard.

His eyes widened in shock. His mind refused to let go of two facts that joined to form the worst possible scenario.

_He's going mad,_ was the first, and _she's been cheating on him...with me,_ was the second.

But if anything _was_ going to come of it, he'd be damned if he'd let her face it alone.

He grabbed his gun out of the holster and raced to the room where the cry had sounded...and his heart felt like it sank into his stomach.

Spectre _was_ there, and he had Sojourner in his arms.

Jani-Ca turned to see the Constable run in, still sopping wet, fur sticking out everywhere. She stifled a laugh. "You can put the gun down, Constable."

Deo turned to look at the Constable in shock. He hopped onto the floor to stand between them. "Now, now, I don't know what's wrong, but I'm _sure_ if we _talk_ about it—"

"I don't have much choice, do I?" the Constable replied, faintly, staring at the child in Spectre's arms.

Spectre lifted an eyebrow. He placed Sojourner down in his crib and walked away, opening his arms wide as he went. "Are you really going to shoot me?"

The Constable flicked his gaze to the child— _he doesn't look like he's been hurt_ —then back to Spectre. He shook with fear, but he kept his finger on the trigger.

Spectre folded his arms and snickered. "I may be going mad, but I _do_ remember saying that you could have Jani-Ca if you both wanted."

Deo blinked as he tried, and failed, to process that detail, and he turned to give Spectre an odd look. "What."

"Or is this some kind of jealousy thing, now?" Spectre continued, ignoring the fire ant. "Do I need to start worrying about _your_ state of mind?" His smile was teasing.

The Constable flushed, realizing he'd leapt to the wrong conclusion, and he lowered the gun. Jani-Ca's cry, he now realized, had only been surprise, not fear. And he'd failed to notice the bottle in Spectre's hand.

He mumbled something about the water and wandered back into the bathroom.

The phone rang, and Jani-Ca ran to answer it. "Yes? Oh—" She listened for several minutes to the frantic dingo before she replied. "No, it's all right. He's here; Deo brought him in," she lied.

She spent several more minutes trying to console the dingo before she could hang up.

"Spectre? Did you, by chance, teleport into the dingo's home, and back out with Sojourner? _Without_ saying anything? To anyone?"

Spectre blinked. "I...yes. I suppose. Why?"

"Because you've just terrified the babysitter into thinking he _lost_ our son."

"Huh. And since you told him _I_ took Sojourner," Deo muttered, "I guess that means _I_ have a round of apologies to make."

"No, he figures the fire ants are just weird like that," she replied, ignoring the glare he sent her. She continued looking at Spectre. "But he asks that it please not happen again, and that someone _tell_ him from now on."

—

The Constable tried to avoid meeting anyone's eyes as he set down the tea in front of the Guardian and finished making breakfast for all of them.

Jani-Ca had finished feeding Sojourner and laid him down for his nap, while Spectre ignored everything except the tea.

And Deo stood where Spectre had tossed his helmet; the fire ant watched all of them, disapproval written in every line of his face.

Spectre glanced briefly at the numbers on his cup before downing the tea in a single gulp. The Constable winced, sparing a thought only to wonder if the Guardian could even _taste_ it; the tea hadn't been hot enough to damage anything, but the Guardian had drunk it before it could cool to what most people would consider...normal.

But that _was_ the reason for these particular dishes; every single one had a thermometer built in, so there was no more guesswork. For the fire had damaged Spectre enough that he could no longer tell if he touched something that was too hot or too cold. The only thing he could ever feel anymore...was pain.

The Constable poured the Guardian another cup before turning back to the food.

Spectre waited for the numbers to drop again before he sipped at the tea. He glanced briefly at Deo, to see the fire ant scowling at them.

Just what was Deo's problem? Sojourner was not being neglected, and Jani-Ca was happy enough; what else mattered?

If it had occurred to Spectre to remember Jani-Ca's nature, that she was never _truly_ happy except when she could take care of others, he had swiftly shoved the thought away. She could not take care of _him_, anymore, so there was no sense letting that get in the way. If she was happy with the Constable, then that's all there was to it.

"Constable," Spectre said.

Deo relaxed just a bit, figuring maybe the boy had come to his senses and would straighten the whole mess out.

The Constable froze for a moment, then carefully dished out the rest of the food before he could spill it. "Y—yes, Guardian?" he stammered.

Spectre watched him, waiting until the Constable met his gaze. "Are you happy with Jani-Ca?"

Deo blinked. This did _not_ sound like Spectre was dealing with the mess.

"H—happy, Guardian?"

"Does she make you happy? Do you enjoy being with her? Do you respect her? Are you willing to keep her safe?" He smiled, knowing the last question hadn't been necessary; when the Constable had assumed the worst, he'd put his own life on the line to rush to her defense.

The Constable took a deep breath and forced himself to nod.

"Jani-Ca, are you happy with him?"

Jani-Ca glared at Spectre, defiance in her eyes. She thought she knew _exactly_ what he was getting at, and refused to answer the question.

Spectre continued to eye her until she sighed. "Nothing would make me happier," she said, trying to pack a world of meaning into her words, "than to be with the echidna I _married_." The statement was not completely true, but she could do nothing about the chameleons.

"You deserve far better than I can give," Spectre replied. "Does he give you that? Is he kind to you? Does he treat you with respect? Or our son?"

The Constable noticed that the Guardian had _not_ asked if either of them _loved_ the other. He didn't know whether to be relieved or frightened by the omission.

"He...keeps me from becoming too miserable," she finally admitted.

The Constable's eyes darted from one to the other. _Great Aurora,_ he thought, _the Guardian's younger than_ I _am!_ When _did he start sounding like such an old man?_ This interrogation would have made _much_ more sense if it had been a father, giving permission to court his daughter. Not _this_.

And Deo's anger faded enough to show that he was just as confused.

Spectre sighed. "Then I take my leave of you." He looked at Jani-Ca, tears in his eyes. "You won't have to worry about me hurting you again."

And before anyone could reply, he called upon his power...and vanished.

Deo teleported out to chase after him.

"Spectre!" Jani-Ca called, staring at the fog where her husband had been.

The Constable wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry into his shoulder.

_Damn it, Guardian, what are you_ thinking_? Can't you_ see _how much you're hurting her_ now_?_

—

Another week passed, and the Constable stopped by with another message. He told Jani-Ca that _one_ of his deputies had been spending a lot of time with some of the former Legionnaires.

He warned her he might not see her for some time; he still could not be certain just how former their allegiance really was, and he would have to determine the _exact_ nature of his deputy's association with them.

Three days later, one of his deputies reported him dead.

Murdered, but without a mark to show how. His death left even the chameleons mystified.

But the fire ants detected an aura of chaos energy around his body. And the deputies had heard reports of a cloaked figure lurking around.

They were determined that the information should _not_ leak until it could be properly investigated. The crew tried to protect Jani-Ca and Spectre from this new development.

But in spite of all their care, the rumors began to fly.


End file.
